"I don't want to be my friend no more. I want to be somebody else" - Pink
This is not how I want to be. I used to be smart; be able to make decisions and follow through with them. Right now, I am incapable of doing so and my frustration at that is mounting daily. Like the unhelpful relative that tells someone with a mental illness, I just want to snap out of it. I know and appreciate that I have spiraled downwards for many years and I know that the evidence suggests it will take months to be able to have the strength to be able to dig my way out of my cesspool but some days I am just so over wading through the pile of crap that my life has amounted to that I just want something, anything to not be a struggle. I am not expecting life to be easy. But one day without drama or incident would be very welcome right now.
Like someone at work said during the week about a project we're working on "it's like trying to swim through molasses". Except molasses is sticky and sweet. My life is just a sticky, rotting pool of filth that I desperately try to wash off each and every day. I have to admit that I cannot see progress. For all the effort I am putting in, I cannot see that I am moving forward. At all.
The optimist in me battles on but, like a cornered coward, I have little left to give. I am waging a war against the injustice of the legal system. I am losing but I persist. If for no other reason than that I will be able to tell my children that I did all that I could. That, like in my failed marriage, I fought with every fibre of my being. That I did all that I knew how to do. That I did not give up. That I refuse to give up easily. That I spend hours every night pouring over legal cases looking for something, anything that will assist. That I come up with nothing night after night but I keep going back. Searching, scrambling, clutching at the slightest glimmer of hope.
I fight battle after battle. With each battle I am more scarred, more damaged, more broken. With every war I rage I come out with less conviction, less faith in my ability and less in reserve to battle with. With each assault I realise that I am going to continue to be screwed over for the decisions I have made and for my lack of foresight. With each passing week, I can see the dream I have slipping through my fingers. It's like trying to hold onto jelly. What little good I had in my life is melting before my eyes and there is nothing I can do about it. The stronger I try to clutch it the faster it melts.
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